


Sunset

by AdrenalineRevolver



Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Hotshot is a Mom Friend, Illiteracy, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Misunderstandings, Soft Spot Conlon, Spot Conlon is Bad at Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-22 22:23:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23001334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdrenalineRevolver/pseuds/AdrenalineRevolver
Summary: Spot gets a note from his boyfriend Racetrack. Unfortunately he can't read it.
Relationships: Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins
Comments: 9
Kudos: 89





	Sunset

**Author's Note:**

> Go check out https://violentbirds.tumblr.com ! She's great!

Spot stared at the words silently begging them to mean something. He knew it was a letter to him. He could recognize his name at the top that much he was sure of. It was something he had to know to sign off on orders, even if he just told Hotshot what they would be and scribbled his name at the bottom. 

At the bottom there was an R. Like in Brooklyn. He’d been told it was from Racetrack so that made sense. 

That R was the only thing that kept him from ripping the paper in frustration. Why couldn’t his mom of known how to read? She’d tried so hard to teach him when he was just a little. Making him trace statues that said the name of the borough over and over. However it’s hard to teach what you don’t know. 

Hotshot knew. Hotshot was the best reader Spot had seen. He could go through the entire paper while waiting on the littles to finish buying their stack. He was Spot’s quiet translator when he had the chance, leaning over and pointing out a headline, reading it out loud as if he was impressed by it. 

It wasn’t that Spot couldn’t fake it or listen in on others but it helped to be able to keep up appearances. Spot was the leader. The king. He couldn’t have a weakness because then Brooklyn would have a weakness. 

Spot thought about making his way to where Hotshot was selling and having him translate the words before ice froze in his veins. What was written on the page? He and Race they were…well they were really close. Closer than two guys should be. Racetrack was always leaning on him and making up reasons to touch him. There was even that time Race took his hand. And the time Race leaned on him while they sat on the dock!

It had to be a love letter. Something that Racetrack couldn’t say but he could write. Spot felt like he was separated by an entire sea when it was just letters. Scratches on a page. 

He couldn’t ask Hotshot to translate it. He didn’t know how the guy felt about…guys like him. Supposedly Spot’s word was law but this was a big deal. He’d heard rumors about Manhattan but they were just rumors about Kelly and his newest fling. 

His stomach twisted into knots at the idea of telling Racetrack that he simply couldn’t read whatever had been given to him. It was such vulnerability. Though Racetrack was his. Keeping this from him was as good as a lie. 

He carefully folded the letter and slipped it into the pocket without a hole before setting out to Sheepshead. Race would probably only just now be finishing up for the day. 

“Spotty!” Racetrack practically beamed as Spot approached. “Did you get my note? What do ya think?”

“I…I dunno.” The paper felt like it was burning a hole into his thigh. 

“You don’t know?” Race hopped down from the railing and threw his arm around Spot’s shoulder. It was more familiar than most would dare to be. 

“Come with me.” Spot dragged the other boy down the closest alley and checked not once, not twice, but three times for any possible spy. “I mean it. I dunno.”

“Well you don’t have to it’s just a-“ 

“I can’t read it.” Spot cut him off quickly, unable to meet Racetrack’s eyes. 

Racetrack let out a laugh and it felt like a knife directly into Spot’s chest. “Is my handwriting that bad?”

“N-no. I just…I can’t.” He wanted to beat his own hand for shaking.

Racetrack went still for a moment, staring at the shaking form of the king of Brooklyn and before taking his hand. “Is that all? Do you have the note?”

Spot quietly handed the note to Racetrack and watched as he unfolded it. 

“Spot, we should meet up by the docks after selling. –Race.” Racetrack read carefully before folding the note back up. “I just figured we could check out the sunset. I’ve heard it’s neat on the water.”

His cheeks went a soft shade of pink as he nodded. “That sounds nice.”

Spot lead the way towards the docks with Racetrack in tow. The truly nice thing was to have him there, he doubted some sunset could compare. Race didn’t even seem bothered by him not being able to read his note. Maybe he had blown everything out of proportion. 

He sat on the edge of the dock next to Racetrack and took the liberty of leaning into him for once. As the sun began to set Spot found himself with one more little admission. 

“You know, I’ve never had a boyfriend before now. It’s…It’s nice.” Spot let his eyes fall shut. 

“You’re dating someone?” Three words from Race’s mouth ripped Spot from any possible stillness of the moment. 

He’s not sure when he hopped to his feet and started running but his lungs already burnt and he could barely hear Racetrack calling his name in the fading distance. 

Spot ripped the door of the Brooklyn lodging house open and took off towards the bunkroom. Instead of a mercifully empty room awaiting him he slammed into Hotshot’s chest.

Maybe Hotshot was taken aback by how fast Spot had been running or maybe it was the sudden hot wet stains on his shirt but he pulled Spot inside and quickly told the others. “Important meeting.”

Spot found himself being placed in Hotshot’s bunk, conveniently it was the one below his, as Hotshot checked him for injuries. “I’m fine.” It was a poor lie, but he had to try.

Hotshot didn’t seem to buy it as he looked over Spot’s knuckles silently. 

“I-I got a letter.” Spot hated the way his voice sounded small. 

Hotshot paused. “Want me to read it for you?”

“Race did. Cause I told him I couldn’t.” Sometimes he wished he could just sleep for months.

“If Racer gave you trouble over that then he’s throwin stones in a glass house. He can’t keep from bettin’ on horses to save his life. That’s worse if you ask me.” Hotshot leaned back and folded his arms. 

“He didn’t give me trouble. He was real nice. Too nice.” Spot bit his lip.

Something in Hotshot seemed to freeze. “Too nice? How was Higgins too nice?” His tone bit like not having socks in the winter.

Spot winced, he’d never heard Hotshot use Racetrack’s last name. The only time Hotshot used last names was when he was infuriated. If Spot wasn’t blatant Hotshot might just present him Race’s head like a proud cat. “I just. I thought he liked me.” 

Hotshot’s expression softened. “You asked him to go steady then?”

“I thought we already were. We go out to eat, we go to the docks, we sell together sometimes.” Spot leaned into Hotshot. “I guess it was just me.”

“Spot I’m sorry.” Hotshot wrapped an arm around Spot. “I-“

“Spot!” Race was trying to push the door open while the other members of the Brooklyn crew held him back. He made eye contact with Spot and Hotshot before quickly blurting out “It ain’t a problem with me! Just as long as you’se- Ow!- Happy!”

Spot watched as Race was tackled to the ground and dragged away. 

“Well, your taste is certainly-“ Hotshot started.

“I can still beat you up.” Spot sniffled. 

“Lemme just say though, guys don’t run into somebody else’s lodging house and fight a bunch of guys just because they want to be friends with somebody. I love you, but I wouldn’t go barging into Manhattan just to reassure you that I’m okay with the way your life is headed.” Hotshot stood and dusted Spot off. 

“Well yeah you’d wait for me to get back.” He huffed. 

“Go help the fool before the others smother him.” Hotshot ushered him to the door. 

Racetrack was laying at the bottom of a pile of Brooklyn boys and smiled up at Spot. “Hi.”

“Hi. Boys, let him in. I need to talk to him.” On Spot’s command the boys help Racetrack in and push him inside as Hotshot slips out. 

“I just. I wanted to let you know it don’t bother me. If you got a guy. Plenty of guys in Manhattan have one.” Racetrack started to babble. 

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” Spot said quietly. 

“But I saw…” Racetrack trailed off. 

“Hotshot would hug a pole if it was there long enough.” Not that Spot and the others didn’t appreciate the paternal care every now and then. 

“Then who…?” Race cocked his head to one side. 

“I…I wanna hit you.” Spot hid his face in his hands. “How can you not tell? I let you hang on me all the time! I let you hold my hand! I told you my deepest secret because I value even dumb little shit you’d put on a note more! I-“

Racetrack cut him off by leaning in and kissing him. Spot couldn’t seem to decide if he wants to bite Racetrack or not. He settled for letting Racetrack take control of the kiss. Racetrack brought his hand to Spot’s cheek to hold him close and Spot felt like he would melt. 

“I just surprised before because I wanted your boyfriend to be me.” Racetrack whispered into his lips. “I didn’t know how to ask. Or if you’d ask.”

“Stay the night. I’ll surprise you in more ways.” Spot grinned as he tugged at Race’s hair. Like they’d have the time or privacy to do anything more but steal a few kisses. 

“Keep Hotshot from killing me and I will be.” Racetrack fell onto the bed with Spot in his arms. 

“I’ll see if I can manage that.” Spot hid his face in Racetrack’s chest. He didn’t want to be caught being too sappy, not quite yet.

“Hey Spotty?” Racetrack leaned back only a fraction but it was enough to make Spot burrow in further. “If you want I could help you. Once you can sound stuff out it ain’t too hard. At least to me.”

“I…” He didn’t want to put that on Race, make it a burden. Though the chance to actually be able to read notes that were sent to him made him practically buzz with excitement. “It’s gotta be a fuckin’ secret. Don’t tell nobody. And teachin’ me don’t count as a date. We still gotta go do somethin’ after.” He grumbled into Race’s chest.

“We could meet up in the library. Not many newsies hang around there.” Racetrack idly played with Spot’s hair as he thought. “Then we could watch that sunset.”

Spot’s face went red when he thought of the sunset. “I’m sorry I ran off.”

Racetrack laughed and this time it seemed to fill the entire room with the soft colors of that sunset that Spot missed. “It beat bein’ soaked. Though honestly I should probably apologize I wasn’t a great boyfriend since I didn’t know I was one.”

“You were.” Spot then added. “Are.”

A knock at the door interrupted the two. “Hey, are we gonna get to sleep tonight?” Kenny called through the wood. 

“If I say no will you go away?” Spot glared at the door hard enough that certainly the other boy could feel it.

“No.” Came the quick reply. 

“Fuck. Fine, just. Gimmie a second.” Spot hopped up and sighed. 

“Should I…?” Racetrack glanced around, not sure what to do. 

“You’se as much Brooklyn as you are Manhattan. If they give you too much trouble I’ll break their necks.” Spot opened the door releasing a hoard of tired kids already dressed and ready for bed. That had to be Hotshot’s doing. 

Spot grabbed Race’s wrist and dragged him towards the washroom before he could be mugged with questions. “Come on Sunshine, lets get at least some dirt off.”

Racetrack froze in the doorway of the washroom. 

“What?” Spot suddenly felt a wave of self-consciousness. 

“Nothing I just…really liked that.” Race’s cheeks were a faint pink as he shut as he shut the door behind them. 

“Liked what?” Spot started to strip down while trying to remember what he did or said. 

Racetrack slipped over and pressed a kiss to Spot’s shoulder. “Being called Sunshine.”

Maybe it was the lips on his bare skin or the smug grin on Racetrack’s face but Spot was a bit too dizzy to find words. “I uh, yeah.” 

Yeah. How eloquent. 

“I really like you.” Race wrapped his arms around Spot’s waist from behind. “Not bein’ able to read and all.”

Spot felt like he was going to pass out. “I…same here. But you can read.”

“If I call you cute will you hit me?” Racetrack leaned over his shoulder. 

“Probably.” Spot wasn’t that flustered. Not yet at least. 

“Handsome then.” Racetrack then grinned. It was the sort of grin he only used when he already knew which horse was probably going to win. “Want me to help you clean off?”

Spot was going to die. 

He agreed anyway.


End file.
